


Reflection of Us

by sharim28



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: F/M, sg1secretsanta
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-25 01:05:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17111540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sharim28/pseuds/sharim28
Summary: Maybe, he thinks, contemplating the perfect line of her cheek and glint of hair in the starlight, this is where they were headed all along.





	Reflection of Us

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NellieOleson](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NellieOleson/gifts).



> For the 2018 Secret Santa exchange. 
> 
> My request was from Nellie, and her prompt was "Anything cliche"
> 
> Thank you to Sarah_M for the read through and comments, always appreciated xx

 

It’s one of those scenarios that’s beginning to get a bit repetitive, and Jack thinks maybe there is something wrong with him for feeling so blasé about it all.

“How long do we still have?” he asks his companions, knowing full well it’s another thirteen hours and twenty eight minutes until their deadline. Teal’c raises an eyebrow at him, but does not respond.

“It’s Christmas in four hours,” Carter says, ignoring his question and leaning her head back against the rough brickwork of the cell.

Jack tries hard not think about things like Christmas.

“Do you think we’ll be out of here in time?” Carter continues.

“You have somewhere you need to be?” he asks.

She stiffens a little beside him, and shakes her head. “No, sir.”

Sometimes, he’s a real ass. He leans back against the brickwork and deliberately lets his shoulder brush against hers; a silent apology. She holds stiff beside him for a moment longer, and then relaxes, and Jack feels himself relax knowing that she’s forgiven him. Again.

It turns out Carter is very tolerant of old men with crappy moods and a sharp tongue.

“How long do we wait?” she asks eventually, breaking the silence again.

Jack shrugs. “Oh, let’s make it two hours. That should give us time to get back for Christmas.”

Though to be honest, he’s not really sure what sort of Christmas they’ll be getting back to.

“Are you certain waiting for Daniel Jackson to negotiate our release will be successful?” Teal’c asks.

“No,” Jack says comfortably, closing his eyes as he sits back and waits.

Two hours pass without sign of a rescue, spent in a comfortable silence between them. It shows, Jack thinks, that they’ve spent too much time together over the last months, how comfortable they are in each others’ silence, even while locked up in a not-so-comfortable cell.

“Shall we?” he asks.

“Do you want the honors, sir?”

He shrugs, and climbs easily to his feet. Hours ago, when they were first locked in this dark, damp little cell after yet another misunderstanding with the locals, he and Teal’c had examined the crude metalwork with a critical hand and identified their route of escape. Sometimes it’s easier to let Daniel attempt to talk them out of trouble in these sorts of societies, and sometimes it’s just easier to rescue Daniel.

It takes a few minutes to work at the weak bar, and moments later he tosses the now useless piece of metal out of the cell and onto the ground. They pause as the sound of the bar clanging on the stonework bounces down the hallway, but no footsteps or yells of alert sound after the echoes die down.

Carter’s arm is smaller than his, and she bends it deftly around to jostle at the locking mechanism on the front of their cell. There’s a satisfying grating noise as she undoes the door.

“Ready?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

It strikes him at very odd moments just how beautiful Carter is. Right now, in the gloomy lighting and dark shadows, her eyes are bright and the smile she beams up at him is full of anticipation; she’s an adrenaline junky and as addicted to this as he is. He’s not supposed to think about things like how beautiful she is or the way his heart appears to drop into his stomach when she looks at him like that.

“Wonder what’s keeping Daniel?” Jack muses as they step out of the prison and into sunlight. His eyes smart briefly, a ghost of a pain, before they adjust and he focuses over the landscape before them. “Ah,” he says, catching sight of an unconscious Daniel hanging in the stocks. “That would be what’s keeping Daniel.”

Beside him, Carter sighs. “Are you sure this strategy of letting him ‘talk us out of trouble’ is the right one?” she asks.

“Nope,” Jack says cheerfully. “I’m waiting for Daniel to work that out. I think he must be getting close to figuring it out on his own.”

“We can only hope,” Carter mutters under her breath.

Carter, he’s learning, has a sense of humour very similar to his own, and he’s enjoying it more and more when she lets it out to play.

“I suppose we should go get him,” Jack says.

“He’d be very disappointed if we didn’t.”

“Let’s find our gear first.”

The small, medieval-esque village is comprised of little stone huts and thatched roofs, scattered over around dusty paths lined by scraggly clumps of grass. The dungeon cells they’d been imprisoned are in a large keep overlooking the village. Logic, and experience, has Jack determining their gear is probably somewhere close to the head man of the village, no doubt in the keep from which they had just escaped.

Silently they follow Carter’s lithe frame back into the keep, and carefully make their way along a flight of stairs they’d been marched up just before their imprisonment was announced. It’s painfully easy to neutralise the two guards set to watch over their belongings, and not much more difficult to take out the armed men standing around Daniel with their zat guns.

Before long they’re on their way back to the gate, Daniel draped unmoving over Teal’c’s shoulders.

Carter dials the sequence in the DHD, and they pause together on the threshold of the gate.

“See, plenty of time,” he says, smug.

“Just about Christmas,” she says, flashing him a quick smile.

“Let’s go see what Santa brought.”

Except, he thinks as they step through the gate, he’s pretty sure Santa doesn’t visit their corner of the galaxy.

 

* * *

 

It turns out he’s wrong; Santa did visit their corner of the galaxy.

Everywhere that he can see there are streamers and ribbons and even something resembling popcorn draped around the rusting pipework and machinery that they now call home.

Harlan comes shuffling over to them, his face - as usual - lit up like an excited child when he catches sight of them. “Kumtrya!” he says eagerly. “I mean, Merry Christmas!” 

“It’s not quite Christmas yet, Harlan,” Carter says, striding down the steps towards the android.

“Oh, I know, there is still one of your Earth hours and seventeen minutes before the commencement of your celebration. However, I thought it an appropriate greeting when you returned home. Oh! What has happened to Doctor Jackson?”

“The usual,” Jack says as Teal’c dumps Daniel unceremoniously on the floor. “I figure he has about five minutes left before his programming reboots.”

“What happened this time?” Harlan asks, stepping anxiously around Daniel like a puppy.

“Same old, same old. Cultural misunderstanding, wrongful imprisonment, someone thinking Carter was free property and not liking it when she could defend herself. You know how it goes.”

“You didn’t have to step in, sir,” Carter says, resignation on her voice.

Yes, because he’s not going to step in when someone wants to kidnap Carter. Even if she’s more than capable of kicking anyone’s ass – including his on – there is no way he’s ever going to step back and not make a stand for her. She’s a valuable member of his team, and far too important to him.

“What happened here anyway?” Jack asks, ignoring Carter’s comment and surveying the mess of green and red decor.

“It is Christmas!” Harlan announces, as though Jack should know this.

“Well, yes, I know that. But this,” he says, waving his hands around at the spectacular display. “How?”

“We have been in trade with the Deltaren for some months now,” Harlan explains. “They were happy to provide the fabrics and plant life required to recreate an atmosphere similar to your festivities on Earth.”

Jack raises an eyebrow. “Plant life?”

“There is a tree,” Harlan says proudly. “However, I do still not understand the significance of this.”

“And where’s the fat man in the red suit?” Jack asks.

Harlan looks down at himself, confused. “I am right here, Colonel.”

Carter snorts loudly, just as Daniel starts to stir on the ground.

“What happened?” he asks.

“You got yourself knocked out again,” Carter tells him, still grinning. “I think maybe we need to readjust the programming so the unconscious state isn’t simulated for quite so long.”

“How long?” Daniel demands.

She shrugs. “I’ll fix it.”

Jack turns away, grinning to himself. He knows full well that his, Teal’c and Carter’s ‘stun’ reflex has been cut down to minutes; apparently Carter extended Daniel’s response time.

She really does have a great sense of humour, he thinks.

 

* * *

 

The attempt at Christmas fails miserably. Instead of cheering them up, the bright burn of the incinerator amongst the overdone linen decorations and lack of gifts under a sparse little tree only serves to emphasise what it is that they’ve lost. There’s no hearty Christmas dinner, and no silly Christmas hats. There’s a distinct lack of carols and pie and eggnog. Strangely, the more the uncomfortable evening drags on, the more Jack finds himself relaxing into his chair in a way he hasn’t done since he realized he was a copy of himself.

There’s nothing like realizing what you don’t have, to make you thankful for what you do have. Looking at the quiet profiles of his team sitting beside him, he’s thankful that they are here with him, keeping him grounded and reminding him of who he is.

His gaze lingers on Carter’s profile, taking in the knees tucked up under her chin and the faraway expression on her face as she studies the crackling flames in the incinerator.

“Well,” Daniel says eventually. “I’m going to bed.”

“And I will Kel’no’reem,” Teal’c says, rising to his feet.

They don’t really need to sleep anymore – or Kel’no’reem – but it’s one more habit they hold onto. Harlan has long since stopped trying to tell them they don’t need to sleep, and accepts it as yet another of their crazy Earthling quirks they haven’t managed to let go of yet. Maybe with time they will forget to sleep and eat and do all the things they’re clinging so desperately to in some attempt to maintain their humanity.

Right now though, sitting beside Carter with the lingering taste of something that’s not quite popcorn in his mouth, he has never felt more human and more alive than he does at this moment.

“You okay?” he asks, nudging her with his shoulder. It’s not like him to ask that question, but it’s not like her to sit so still and quiet and pensive.

Her gaze breaks from the incinerator, and she’s looking at him, sadness in her eyes. He rarely sees her this vulnerable; normally she’s got her Captain face on and takes everything in her stride.

“I was thinking about my Dad,” she says. “And my brother.”

He’d like to say something in support, but really, Jack has almost nothing left at home; everything that means anything to him is here on this planet. He misses Cassie, but he has no other family to speak of that he hasn’t been mourning for years already.

“What do you miss the most?” he asks.

She mulls over the question. It’s been almost a year in this life as an android, and none of them have really discussed what they’ve lost. Instead, it’s been a constant race to find ways to give themselves a freedom from the prison this planet is for them, and find some sort of purpose in their existence. Maybe even a secret dream to someday find something valuable enough to buy them passage back to Earth.

“Everything,” she says eventually.

“I miss ice cream,” he says, because the ache of their loss is too much to put into words.

“I miss the snow.”

“I miss dogs.”

“My motorcycle.”

“I miss cake.”

“Coffee.”

“Hockey.”

“Our stars.”

The surface of this planet is a bitter and hostile place, with no stars visible through the enveloping shroud of noxious gases. He misses their stars too, and misses the cold crisp nights with his telescope on his observation deck where he can lose himself in the unending vastness of the sky above him.

“Come on,” he says, jumping to his feet and grabbing her hand to pull her up with him.

“Where to?”

“It’s a surprise,” he says, leading her to the gate. It’s only when he goes to dial the DHD and has to let go of her hand that he realizes he’s still holding it, and she never pulled it out of his grasp. When the wormhole establishes, he looks over at her; her face is illuminated by the glow of the event horizon, and he’s once again struck by how beautiful she is.

It feels right to reach over and take her hand again, and she smiles at him shyly when his fingers slip around hers.

“Where are we going?”

“Do you always have so many questions?”

It’s a planet they’ve been to a handful of times before, mainly to harvest ice for their water supply. He couldn’t have planned it any better if he tried; the velvet blue sky above them is still and clear, and the pristine snow covered hills glow in the starlight.

“Wow,” she says, her fingers tightening against his. “This is… it’s beautiful.”

“Look up,” he says, tugging her closer so her arm is pressed against his.

Behind them, the Stargate snaps shut and they’re left in an echoing silence. The stars above them seem to glow even brighter in the darkness, a dizzying display of cold whites and blues and yellows against the endless sky.

They sit on the steps leading to the Stargate, heads craned back as they absorb the visage above them. He wraps an arm around her shoulders and she leans into him, the pretence of savouring warmth a thin disguise for their sudden need for closeness - while they are aware of temperature, sensations like too hot and too cold are no longer a concern.

She still smells like Carter, he thinks, turning his head toward hers and breathing the scent of her. It’s fresh and clean and indefiniably  _ her _ . Jack doesn’t like to dwell on the fact that he seems intimately familiar with how Carter smells, even from before their exile.

Carter tenses against him, and he feels a pang of guilt and pleasure at being so close to her, but her hand reaches out and grips his knee tightly, eyes still focused intensely on the sky above them.

“Did you see that?” The warm breath of her voice humidifies like fairy dust in the air between them.

“See what?”

“That!” she says, her fingers squeezing his knee again.

Above them, slowly, something rolls and pulses, a gentle wave of light so faint it’s barely there. The hint of something in the sky above them solidifies, the heavens seeming to stretch and yawn, and suddenly the deep velvet blue is a kaleidoscope of greens and purples and pinks swaying and dancing and rippling across the sky in ribbons.

“Did you know this was going to happen?” Carter asks, still staring at the sky, spellbound.

He’s equally spellbound, by the sky and lights and the way she’s shifted without them noticing. She’s all but sitting in his lap with his arms around her, and their cheeks are pressed together as they drink in the performance overhead.

“I really wish I could say yes,” he whispers, turning his face into hers, “but I had no idea.”

“It’s perfect,” she says. “Better than any Christmas light display.”

“Even better than cake,” he agrees.

She chuckles against him, and they fall into silence again.

Her fingers are rubbing over his now as she sits in the circle of his arms, her head comfortably nestled in the hollow between his neck and shoulder. Above them the sky continues to undulate and dance, alive with colour and vibrancy, but his attention is now completely focused on the woman in his arms.

Despite the cold around them, and the knowledge that much longer and their hydraulics will run into trouble, Jack feels warm and content sitting on the icy step.

Maybe, he thinks, contemplating the perfect line of her cheek and glint of hair in the starlight, this is where they were headed all along. Maybe the purpose they’ve so desperately been striving for hasn’t been technology or freedom or discovery, but rather contentment and a sense of belonging.

“This has been a good Christmas after all,” she says.

He turns his hands over and her fingers trace a slow, deliberate path down his palms before she links her fingers with his. Her head turns ever so slightly toward him, leaning further back until she can look him in the eye; in the light of the stars and dancing skies her eyes are bright and dark and endless.

“Are you going to kiss me, Jack?”

“Do you want me to?” he asks, but he’s leaning so close to her now he can feel the heat of her breath against his lips. One of her hands is creeping up the side of his neck, fingers cool as they brush against his skin and comb through his hair.

She’s smiling when she kisses him; he can feel it in the way her lips curve against his. She pauses, their lips barely touching. A sigh, and then her lips are moving against his. He forgets about the dancing sky and stars above them because her eyes are reflecting unending galaxies at him, and he’s lost somewhere between the milky way and the feel of her lips beneath his.

The kiss ends eventually, slowly, a reluctant separation of their lips stalled by a thousand tiny, lingering kisses. When he opens his eyes, her eyes are brighter than the sky and his fingers are splayed against her face, cupping her jaw in his hand.

He moves slowly, partly because he’s reluctant to move away from her, and partly because it’s been too long and their systems are cooling down. He helps her up off the frozen step and wraps his arms around her again, burying his face against her neck as he holds onto her on a frozen planet one lonely Christmas night.

“Come on,” she says, shifting away but holding onto his hand. “We’re going to freeze.”

When the wormhole connects and its blue glow washes out the sky above, they pause, hands joined, and cast one last look at the sky now slowing down its display.

“Let’s go home,” he says.

She smiles at him, and together they step back through the gate.

FIN

**Author's Note:**

> So, not entirely sure this is what Nellie was asking for, but it's sort of cliche right?? 
> 
> I often think about the duplicates and wonder what their story is, and how they came to terms with their exile and the fact that they're no longer human, but machine. Anyway, I figure they deserve a bit of happiness!
> 
> Hope you all have a fabulous Christmas and New Year period with your loved ones, and that 2019 brings you peace, happiness and fulfilment xx


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